Compromise
by Nefariously
Summary: If I sang you a song, would everything be better? Because I would walk a thousand miles for you. Hiroki x Nowaki


'WHAT

'WHAT?! HOW COULD A PACKET OF GUM AND LOLLIES EQUAL TO ¥400?! CAN YOU NOT ADD 120 AND 100 TOGETHER?!'

Hiroki's voice resounded everywhere and Nowaki gave a jolt, dropping the loaf of bread in the basket he was holding. He quickly jogged, the basket swaying, to the counter.

He looked on, disbelieving, as he watched Hiroki wave a tube of gum and a lollipop in front of the poor clerk, who was desperately trying to explain that he had made a mistake and was sorry. Nowaki sighed, but couldn't help the slight twitch in his lips. Whatever possessed Hiroki to act the most childish adult – he would never know.

'Hiro-san,' he said, grabbing Kamijou's hand softly, but firmly. 'If you want to the lolly and the gum, then please tell me… I'll pay for it.'

Hiroki faltered for a moment, then muttered in a smaller voice; 'don't worry about it. I don't want it.'

He then stormed off, leaving the clerk a little shocked.

Nowaki glanced at the man, and grinned sympathetically. 'Sorry about that, he is just having one of his seizures.'

He ran after Hiroki, whizzing out of the convenient store door just as it was about to close. 'Why does a couple of hundred yen bother you so much?' he asked him, as he caught up to him on the street.

Hiroki huffed. 'Don't you mind, kid.'

Nowaki sighed, again. Kamijou was at least 8 cm shorter than him, and though they had a slight age difference, it was difficult for Nowaki to get the image of a slightly snobby child out of his head. Because, to him, that was exactly was Hiroki was.

A little child who gets angry when his toy is taken away… And more importantly, a child who needs comfort.

--

Hiroki had being having a good day. His literature class's average score was rising, and for around two weeks, no one had spoken or messaged in class. It seemed that pelting blunt objects really worked.

Nowaki was happy at Hiroki's contentment, but the thing was, when he was happy, he tended to be even more dangerous compared to than when he was serious sober.

He had a strange habit of appearing even more irritable when he was happy.

'What did you buy for our dinner?' Hiroki asked, peeking into the grocery bags Nowaki was holding.

Again, that childish trait of his…

'Coriander red drum,' Nowaki answered.

Hiroki frowned, 'I never knew you could cook Italian.'

'I'm a fair cook I guess… And I have researched some recipes for you,' Nowaki stated simply.

Hiroki blushed, and fell silent.

Nowaki shifted his shoulders and groaned softly. They had been aching for some time now, probably because of his lack of rest during the past few weeks. Work, study and the lack of rest were starting to take their toll on his body. He was starting to feel a little weak too.

Yet he didn't say anything – after all, he had just gained intern, so it should become less busy. No need to bother Hiroki with such inconsequential matters.

'Um… do you want me to help holding those bags…?'

'It's fine,' Nowaki said, laughing inwardly at the suddenly kindness. Hiroki was cute in that way. He was sometimes so transparent. He wondered if Hiroki ever noticed when he was in pain.

Oh well… it didn't matter.

When they got home, Hiroki settled for a good book, while Nowaki started preparing for dinner.

Today, the meat was extra hard to chop, and the vegetables didn't seem to be simmering properly. He gritted his teeth. He could make it right… It wasn't hard… He suddenly gave an extra hard jab at the fish, and the knife cut his fingers.

He cursed, and somehow, magically, Hiroki appeared at his side.

He grabbed Nowaki's finger and stared at it closely. He dragged Nowaki into the living room and dumped him roughly on the sofa. Nowaki was about to stand up, when Hiroki pushed him down again. 'Hiro… san…?'

'Stay here.'

He left for about two minutes and came back with a huge bandage. 'Hiro-san,' Nowaki started, rolling his eyes.

'Shut up!' Hiroki snapped, concentrating on fixing the bandage around Nowaki's finger.

'Hiroki, it is just a bloody cut, get off.'

Nowaki blinked. He was surprised at his own words, how harsh they sounded. This was one of the times when he sorely wished he could take his own words back. But Hiroki didn't seem to be peeved at all. Instead, he wound the bandage tighter and snapped it in position.

'You rest. I'll finish dinner.'

Nowaki felt a twinge of guilt, even though he knew technically, he had done nothing wrong.

Dinner wasn't as nice as what Nowaki could have produced, but he had to admit, Hiroki could be a good cook when he made an effort. He tried to make small talk at the table, but Hiroki only replied with a few yeses or nos, and he was left to wonder whether Hiroki had indeed taken offence at his words.

'Gochisosama deshita,' they chanted, at the end of their meal.

Nowaki closed his eyes; perhaps he should take a nap here?

When soft fingers pressed lightly on his back, he snapped back and looked up to see Hiroki with his hands pressed on his shoulders. Did he want to…?

No, it wasn't sex, Nowaki thought as Hiroki started to move his fingers rhythmically on his shoulder blade, smoothing out the tight muscles, messaging the sore tendons. He moaned, and smiled in delight. Who knew that his lover would do something like this…?

'Hey… listen, this was just a one off thing, okay? You cut your finger, and I… I mean, it's not like it's because I'm-'

The rest of his sentence was muffled as Nowaki pulled his head down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft, chaste, but still undeniably delicious. When would he ever get enough of his precious Hiro-san?

'I'm trying to give you a massage!' he huffed, his cheeks bright red.

He gets embarrassed with a kiss…? Nowaki could only imagine how he felt about the things they did in bed.

TBC?


End file.
